The Bright Side
by rising-aspirations
Summary: "No matter what happens, we have to promise each other that we will always look at the bright side." We meet Patrick and Teresa Jane's daughter, Clara, at age 16. When her parents reveal to her some things from their past, she begins to question more than she ever has before. This is Clara's journey of self discovery, compassion, and purpose. She is their bright side.
1. Prelude

_**Authors Note:** Okay friends. Some of you have read my other Mentalist story called "Within White Walls". After rereading that AND finishing rewatching the series recently, my writer brain has been inspired to write another story. Here's a little snippet I just had to get out of my system to get the ball rolling. _

_"No matter what happens from this point on, we have to promise each other that we will always look at the bright side."_

* * *

"Oh, you got called too?"

Patrick Jane appears in the warm hallway of Sacred Heart Catholic School to Teresa, clad in navy pants and a white button up shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, being interrupted from his work around the house to come into the school to pick up their daughter.

"Yes, they've gotten into the habit of calling the both of us for her now," Teresa retorts as he sits down next to her in the hallway, fingers anxiously rubbing together.

Patrick brings the back of her hands to his lips, in hopes of comforting her dancing hands. "It'll be fine. Probably just a misunderstanding."

"Jane, if this has anything to do with another one of those silly pretend psychic tricks you taught her, that's the last one she-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Jane." A woman came through the door opposite the seated couple. Her blonde hair, pin straight skirt and matching blazer helped her strong presence force them to stand with respect, nodding in agreement. "Come right in."

"Thank you, Principal Beale," Teresa complied, taking her husband by the hand and walking into the office. Patrick made eye contact and nodded slightly with an accompanied smile.

The brown haired 16-year old sits begrudgingly in a chair opposite a desk with piles of organized paperwork. She looks up to meet her parents focus, and delight appears from nowhere.

"Mom! Dad! Please, you guys will know I'm telling the truth-"

"Please sit, Mr. and Mrs. Jane." The Principal cut her off, motioning to the two chairs there. Clara kept her eyes on her father, who brought a delicate finger to his lips to motion her not to speak.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jane, this is the fifth time this semester we've needed to call you in regarding Clara's behavior. Do you know that Clara has been pickpocketing other students for fun?"

"I wonder who taught her _that."_ Lisbon hit Jane with the back of her hand on his arm, catching him giving their daughter a thumbs up.

"But, Principal Beale-"

"No, Clara. You've stolen another students wallet three times, and a different student twice. All times stealing their wallets, taking all of their money, and then saying you found it somewhere or leaving it elsewhere to be found."

Jane finally chimed in, "I'm sorry, and how do you know it's Clara who is doing this?"

"Security footage. Your experience in the FBI should've made that your first assumption." Principal Beale responded.

Patrick raised his eyebrows and crossed his legs. "Well, I'm sure she had good reason."

"I did! They're the two school bullies and-"

"Clara, please. You've known from all of your years here at Sacred Heart that we not only have a no bullying policy, but a no stealing policy as well. And, if you recall, "Thou Shalt Not Steal" is one of the Ten Commandments from our Father in Heaven. He would not be pleased with your behavior, Clara."

Lisbon could feel Jane's chest tighten from the religious mention. He couldn't help himself.

"I'm sure he wouldn't be pleased with you cutting her off and not giving her a chance to defend herself," her Dad retorted. "Or are you so silenced in your marriage that you find some sort of pleasure over powering these kids?"

As usual, Lisbon scooped in to save the day after the offensive remark. "Ah, Principal Beale, we're very sorry for Clara's behavior and will be talking with her about it at home. Is there anything else we can do for you? I've got a case at work that I'm needed for at the moment."

The blonde haired principal stared long and hard at Patrick, speaking with disdain and force. "No, thank you. Since this is the fifth violation this semester, we are going to be giving Clara three days of in school suspension to turn from her ways." The stern principal turned to the young, nervous teen. "Clara, we were very gracious to let you skip a grade. You are very bright and all of your teachers say wonderful things about you. With your senior year coming up next year, you can't afford to mess up your academics with other actions. It could make an impact on if you get into college next year."

A phone began ringing abruptly-Lisbon's. "I'm sorry, Principal Beale. I've got to take this. But we understand the consequences and we will be discussing this at home. Right, Clara?"

The young teen nodded, still eyeing her father for peace of mind.

"Good. We'll see you in the library for in school suspension starting tomorrow, Clara. Thank you both for your time."

The couple stood, shaking her hand and leaving the office promptly.

They walked down the wood clad hallway of the school as Clara's mother answered her phone.

"This is Lisbon..." she continued walking. "Copy that, I'll come in right now...Yes, everything's fine."

"So, bullies?" the blonde, curly haired man inquired, putting a relaxed arm around the 16 year olds shoulders.

"Yeah, Dad. Every day they steal someone's lunch money or even just straight out of their wallet." Clara crossed her arms across her chest. "So, I started getting their wallets and giving the money back."

"Seems legitimate to me. You just need to change your tactic, dear."

"But how?"

They walked outside to the parking lot, Teresa hanging up the phone. "Alright. Sweetheart," she put her daughters hair behind her ear with her thumb, bringing another hand to smooth over her shoulder, "I know you had the best of intentions, okay? Fighting the bad guys, that's what we do."

The 16 year old smiled, holding herself with her own arms still across her body. She still felt bad for getting caught and for disobeying God. Especially at school.

"I've got to go into work, but you both have some dinner without me, okay? I'm gonna be late tonight." Her mother brought her in for a hug and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"I love you. We'll talk about this later?"

"I love you too, Mom." Clara still held her head low, regardless of the commencement from her Mom.

Lisbon looked straight at Jane. "And please use the food I have in the house. We have plenty of food-you don't need to drive through anywhere."

"Got it, dear." Patrick said with a smile before bringing her in for a hug and a delicate goodbye kiss. "Love you. Be safe."

"I will!", the FBI agent shouted as she ran to her vehicle.

"C'mon kiddo," he patted his daughter on the back lightly. He spoke in a mocking tone to make her laugh, "Let's have you go think on what you've done to 'turn from your ways'." He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as well.

They climbed into the vehicle, Clara breathing out a sigh of relief. Catholic school wasn't as righteous as they say it is if _she_ is the one getting in trouble. They sat in the car in silence for a bit, her knees held up to her chest in the front seat. She leaned her head against the window, watching the terrain pass quickly with small _whooshing_ noises from between the cracks of the car.

"Okay, out with it."

Clara sat in silence further, not having the energy to follow her father's orders.

"C'mon, Clara. You've got this all bottled up. Let's talk about it."

"I don't feel like talking about it."

They continued down the road for a moment, before her Dad relentlessly pursued.

"Alright, if you don't want to talk about it then I'm just gonna read your mind."

"Stop it, Dad," she adjusted in her seat, pulling her long sleeves of her sweater down over her hands. "That was only funny when I was little."

"Eh, you're still little in the grand scheme of things. Still funny to me."

She looked down at her phone, dead set on silence.

"You can at least ask me what I meant."

Clara looked up, eyes active with thought. "Okay, fine. What did you mean."

"You have to change your tactic."

They drove a little further.

"Dad, saying it again doesn't tell me what you meant by it."

"You want some sort of equal justice for the bullying, right? But you're making an extra step. All you really need to do is stop it early on instead of making extra work for yourself."

The 16 year old thought about this for a second, pulling all of her hair onto the left side of her neck. "Hmm."

"Do you know how I mean?"

"You mean facilitate him getting caught in the act as opposed to trying to create secret justice?"

"Exactly." He smiled with content, looking at the road ahead. "See? I told you you're getting better at this."

The 16 year old smiled a little, glancing out the window. "How come Mom works so much?"

"She's stopping the bad guys. Y'know how it is."

Clara nodded, bringing her sweater covered hand to her chin, leaning her elbow against the window edge.

"That's what you're gonna be doing, Clara. You're already stopping the bad guys. First Catholic School, then the world." her dad encouraged, trying to lift the mood.

"Can I at least try the state of Texas before conquering the world?" the 16 year old retorted.

Patrick laughed. "Fine, but THEN the world."


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N**_ : _So, not the best at writing FBI case details. As seen below. To all my other Mentalist writers, any tips/tricks/advice on how to best and most accurately write these things, that'd be swell. Thanks for reading and enjoy the first chapter!_

Chapter 1

 _"No matter what happens from this point on, we have to promise each other that we will always look at the bright side."_

* * *

"Alright, boss. What do we got?"

The strong, brunette FBI agent struts confidently into the office of one Kimball Cho. His simple, organized, deliberate office somehow was comforting to her.

"The daughter. She pulled through."

Lisbon was surprised. "She...what?"

"Yep. A little under and hour ago. Came through today to Van Pelt and confessed everything. Said the voice she heard the night of the murder was her father. Arguing and then the attack. He didn't know she was home at the time. And when he came upstairs to discover her it wasn't pretty. He said he'd kill her if she said anything."

Lisbon exhaled, both of relief and heartbreak for this 14 year old. "Jane was right...she didn't get hurt by the supposed attacker. It was her father." Almost disappointed in herself that she didn't believe him. By now she'd picked up on majority of his reading capabilities-even though she would never be as good, she was still pretty good.

"Where is she now?"

"Van Pelt is with her in the staff lounge. We're keeping her here until we can get evidence for his wife's murder."

"And her statement?"

"Recorded. We just need the murder weapon and tangible evidence and we've got him."

Lisbon exhaled once again. They had been trying to nail someone for this homicide for weeks now. She could only imagine how this poor girl is feeling.

"Wish we could cuff him with just a witness." she muttered under her breath.

"Regardless, if he doesn't get a lawyer, we can still bring him in until we find something. We've got a warrant for the house. We're hoping to find some traces of blood somewhere to indicate the weapon. You and Rigsby go ahead with forensics. They're on their way right now."

"You got it, boss."

Teresa was more than happy that they finally nailed this guy. If only they could get the evidence. She knew she had to do one thing before she went out.

Rigsby was in the bullpen pulling his jacket onto his long, burly arms. "Lisbon? Ready to go?"

"Ah, yeah just a second," the agent walked deftly, heels harmonizing with the anxious clicking of a pen in her hand, towards the staff lounge. Turning the corner she met eyes with Grace, the young girl sitting beside her. Lisbon inhaled, casually being reminded of her own daughter not much older than her. This girl looked so young, so battered, so fragile. But also radiating strength. Lisbon considered for a second how lucky she was the Clara had her tough girl genes. It was inevitable, but nonetheless was thankful for her daughters determination and intelligence.

She knocked lightly on the doorframe before proceeding. "Hey."

The young blonde girl lifted her gaze to meet Lisbon's, quickly wiping tears from her cheeks.

"How're you holdin' up?" the brunette FBI agent asked, sitting in a chair opposite her and the red head agent.

"Uhm. O-okay," the girl confessed, still wiping solemn tears from her delicate porcelain cheeks.

Grace reached her hand to place on the young girls shoulder. "Hollie, we promise we are going to keep you safe. He can't hurt you anymore."

She nodded, looking down at her fingernails which were bitten down practically to the cuticle out of anxiety.

Lisbon put a gentle hand over hers, "I promise. We are going to keep you safe."

Interrupted by a loud shout from the other room, the two agents darted their heads towards the door.

"Where. IS SHE?" a booming voice echoed throughout the building, Hollie twitching at the recognized voice.

"Grace, stay here with her. Also give Jane a call. We'll need him."

Lisbon gathered herself and rushed towards the bullpen where Cho and Rigsby were already in the process of calming the angry man down.

"Mr. Gunner, Mr. Gunner calm down!"

"You guys have her. You FBI VERMIN have my daughter, don't you?!"

Before he could say another word, Cho diligently grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. "Sir, I suggest you calm down and talk to us."

Breathing furiously, he laid off the yelling and laid eyes on Hollie. Despite the intensity of the interaction, he spoke softly, cooly, comforting. "Hollie, c'mon. We're going home. This is just a big misunderstanding. C'mon. C'mon, sweetie."

Grace led Hollie by the shoulders down the hall away from the situation. Lisbon walked up to the irate man, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Mr. Gunner, we suggest you come sit down with us and have a little chat."

* * *

"This is insane. You people don't know what you're doing."

"Sir, did you kill your wife?" Lisbon had very little patience for this man now, post daughter confession.

"Wh-what? No! Of course I didn't!"

A few click-clacks of the familiar brown shoes made themselves known at the door. "Are you a tenor?" Jane appeared in the doorway, helping himself inside the interrogation room. "Because that was the highest pitched lie I've ever heard."

"You. You two. You're a couple. Isn't that illegal? Working together?" the burly man clenching his knuckles beneath his hand.

"I am definitely interested in how you know _that_ information but, I digress." The blonde agent grabbed a chair and joined his wife on the appropriate side of the table. "We know you killed your wife. We have new information to prove it."

"Look, my daughter already confirmed to having heard the attacker. That is not new information. She hasn't been able to identify a voice, but-but that doesn't mean it was me? Because she says so?"

Lisbon pulled a manila file folder onto the table, opening it up and reading from it. "Mr. Gunner, we have a record last year of your wife calling in a domestic dispute." The handcuffed man slide his gaze to his hands, slowly biting into his bottom lip. The female agent kept strict eye contact, belittling him. "Would you like to tell us about that?"

He exhaled, picking at his thumb with his index finger. "That... That was a big misunderstanding. It was a small argument and-and I was a little drunk and I'm not proud but that most certainly does not mean I'm the killer."

Patrick Jane continued to study the man. There were signs of dishonesty, but delightfully countered with real, truthful reactions. He hadn't called for a lawyer yet, insinuating his potential of not having anything to hide.

Mr. Gunner looked Patrick Jane in the eye. "You two should know. You're married. You understand the arguments that come with the deal. They happen. You go to bed. You wake up and make eggs and you're back on track."

"Yes, but you forgot the part where you kill your wife." Jane persisted.

"I did NOT kill my... just...just...please? Please...just..." to Jane and Lisbon's surprise, the brawny man breathed intensely and began to cry. "You have a daughter, don't you Mr. and Mrs. Jane?"

Jane felt a tightening in his chest. How did this man know so much about them?

"You would do absolutely anything for her, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." Jane answered subtly under his breath. He kept his locked eye contact with the man across the table.

"So you would understand that if someone took your daughter away from you, you'd just want her back. You'd just want to hold her and tell her it will all be okay." He wiped his tears with his sleeve. "Agents, my daughter is all I have now that my wife is gone. We only have each other. Please. You can't split us up. She needs me."

"Rather, you need her." Jane insisted.

The man took a moment. "We need each other, Mr. Jane." He paused to pick at his hand once more before continuing. "And I think it rather cruel given your past for you to take both my wife and child away from me, sir."

The handcuffed man and Patrick shared a long, deep stare. Jane could sense something was off about this man and rose from the table, excusing himself from the room. His past hadn't haunted him as much in these past sixteen years. Mainly because of the closure of killing Red John. Mainly because of starting his new family, his new life. He knew something was off about this man. Jane found himself pacing near his couch in the bullpen, holding his elbow in one hand and index finger tapping like morse code on his chin.

Lisbon approached from behind, making her presence known by an exhausted exhale. "He just asked for a lawyer. We can't hold him without proper evidence. The daughter's testimony will only have a little weight, but it's hard to confirm voice recognition so we don't even know if she's telling the truth."

"Don't let him see her. He's abusive." Jane remained in his pacing pattern, the wheels of his mind furiously turning.

"Well, we know that because of the domestic dispute."

"But also the way he talks about her. It's...it's about power, about protection, about..." Jane stopped, smoothing his hand against his mouth and sitting down. He couldn't imagine anyone ever touching their daughter like that. All cases were different now considering Clara.

"About...?" Lisbon prodded gently, making her way towards him. He sat in silence, slowly, subtly, shaking his head back and forth. "You okay?"

"He's going to do something, Lisbon." He muttered. "I know it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been working on the case for a few weeks now?" Jane interrogated.

"Yes, just over a few."

"He's smart. He knew this was going to happen. He hasn't been involved in any cases prior to this, has he?"

"We haven't had reason to check, yet. He had a solid alibi. Hey," She placed her hand in his to calm his busy fingers. "Take a moment. Take a breath. We don't know if he's our guy."

"Where's the daughter?" Jane persisted, standing up from his position on the couch.

"Ah, Hollie. She's with Van Pelt-"

He deftly lead himself to the staff lounge, ignoring Lisbon calling after him. He found the young girl with Grace sitting comfortably together on a small, blue sofa they had there. The girl had what seemed to be an entire box of tissues wadded up in her lap. Before entering the room, Jane took a second to breathe. Teresa had started to point out when he became overly passionate about a case and it clouded his judgement, so he had been working on calming down before proceeding.

He tapped lightly at the doorframe as the two heads turned; the young girl's face plastered with fear. She turned her head and back a little into Van Pelt for protection.

"Sorry," Jane began. "I didn't mean to startle you. My name is Patrick."

"I know," she muttered. "Is he still here?" Hollie asked, head down and fingering the used tissues in her lap.

Jane picked up a chair from the table and brought it nearby the sofa, ignoring the first comment momentarily. "Ah, yes. But he's in a locked and watched room. You needn't worry."

Hollie shook her head side to side, frantic. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I-I really don't know if it was him, I just...I just..."

"Shhh.." Jane comforted her, placing a light touch on her knee. She quickly retreated into Grace, placing her hand on the place he'd touched.

He knew. He knew he had been hurting her. Why else would she be afraid of a mans light touch of comfort?

"Hollie, I know this is hard. But you did the right thing."

"I don't think so. Now it's not just me," she mumbled under her breath.

Grace and Patrick met each other's glance. "What do you mean?" he asked, gently.

"Patrick?"

He knew this wasn't the time, but he persisted. "How do you know my name?"

"He knows a lot. Be careful."

Patrick couldn't help but continue. "And why would you say that, Hollie?"

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, I'm done talking now."

Van Pelt looked at Jane, both of them confused. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest. "That's okay, Hollie. Take care of yourself, okay? Excuse me."

Patrick Jane rose from his seat, placing it back at the table and exiting the room. He glanced and saw a lawyer joining Mr. Gunner in his interrogation room.

Enough time passed and Mr. Daniel Gunner was on his way out. Patrick watched as he left with his lawyer, holding concrete eye contact with the man. He noticed as the corner of his mouth upturned slightly, a glimmer shining in his eye. The man turned to his lawyer to wait a moment, approaching Patrick on his couch.

"I intend on getting my daughter back, Mr. Jane. You can't hold her for no reason."

"As long as she admits to your abuse, social services can hold her as long as they like."

Color drained from Mr. Gunner's face. "How dare you. Manipulate my daughter into saying things that aren't true. I would never hurt my Hollie."

"Well, that's not what she has to say." Patrick rose from his place on the couch, keeping strict eye contact with the man. "I suggest you think about what you've done, Daniel. Think about it long and hard and reconsider. Because we will get you to confess. You do not know what I am capable of."

Unmoved, unaffected, Mr. Gunner took a small step closer to Patrick, the two practically touching. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Oh, I assure you, Mr. Jane. I'm well aware what you're capable of." He smiled shortly, winking at the blonde haired consultant. Mr. Gunner patted his hand on his shoulder twice, before beginning to walk back to his lawyer on their way out.

"What was that about?" Lisbon asked, approaching.

Patrick looked up, taking in a large breath. "Ah, nothing." He reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone.

"Jane, seriously." Lisbon persisted. She put one hand on his upper arm, looking at his phone as he dialed Clara's number.

He held up a finger to quiet her for a second. "Just checking on Clara for a second."

"She's sixteen, I think she can handle herself at home for a few hours."

He listened as the dial tone echoed in his ears.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

"C'mon, Clara..." he anxiously tapped his free hand against his leg while he paced alongside the couch.

Fourth time.

 _Hey! This is Clara! Leave me a message and I'll call you-"_

Patrick hung up before the automated message could finish, quickly hitting re-dial.

"No answer?" Lisbon furrowed her brow, reaching to check her own phone.

Jane's heartbeat raced beneath his chest, complying to the dial tones once again.

Once.

He remembered how much Daniel Gunner seemed to know about him and his family.

Twice.

He recalled the comment he made about having a daughter.

Three times.

He remembered locking the door on his way out.

"Hey, Dad!"

Patrick Jane's heart rate returned to a normal pace, hearing the recognized voice.

"Hey, darling." he wiped a tear from his cheek. "Just calling to check up? All good there?"

Clara paused for a moment. "Yeah...everything's fine. You guys okay?"

"Yep, yeah. We're, ah, we're just getting ready to head home." He looked at Teresa, her giving him a look of _I told you so..._

"Okay! I'll heat up some of the leftovers for Mom."

"You do that, sweetheart. We'll be home soon."

"Okay! Love you!"

"Love you too. Bye."

He clicked the small red button on his phone to end the conversation, exasperated. Lisbon came to him, holding him by the two hands and giving him a kiss. "You worry too much." She said, comfortingly.

"Yeah, well..." he sighed and smiled at the same time. "Do you blame me?"

She kissed him again. "No. But still." She held his hands in hers, stroking his hand under her thumb. "C'mon, we can't do much for now. Cho says to go home."

Jane nodded, complying. He knew he had to figure out a plan for how to catch this guy, but wasn't too sure how yet. "I've got a bad feeling about him, Teresa. I know there's more to him than meets the eye."

"We'll see what Rigsby and the team find out with the warrant. But if we can't find a weapon, we can't hold him for anything. We can only discuss things with social services about Hollie."

The duo grabbed their things and headed home in their appropriate cars. As the lights passed above Patrick Jane on the freeway, his mind raced as to solve this case. How did he know so much about them? The internet held a lot of information regarding the Red John case, so that was no surprise. But there was some way he was connected to something bigger. Something more.

Jane pulled into their dirt driveway behind Lisbon, parking and getting out of the car. The two met outside of their beautiful cabin home, Patrick putting a loving arm around Teresa as they walked to the large, wooden porch. Jane gave her a soft kiss on her cheek and moved his arm from around her shoulder to her lower back. They walked onto the porch, Lisbon unlocking the front door and entering their home. They could hear the faint sound of the television from through the slightly open window.

"Clara? We're home!" Lisbon stated, entering the house and putting her keys in their key bowl. She took off her shoes, glancing in the living room for the young body.

No Clara.

"Clara?" Patrick questioned, not bothering to take off his shoes.

"She's probably in the shower," Lisbon reasoned.

Not listening, Patrick walked swiftly down the hall towards her bathroom.

No lights.

No running water.

No Clara.

"She wouldn't have gone out, would she?" Lisbon continued, looking outside for her car.

"No, her car is outside," Jane said, exasperated. He went to their bedroom perchance but no trace of the girl was to be found. "Clara?"

No response.

"Teresa, call her phone."

Teresa complied, pulling out her phone to call her daughter.

"Clara?" Patrick went outside to search for the young girl.

No trace.

Suddenly they heard the faint ringing of a phone coming from the kitchen.

They both ran to the kitchen, searching for the source of the ringing. Patrick Jane saw a light from in the microwave. "Teresa..." he pointed towards it, running to open it.

He found her ringing phone accompanied by the dinner leftovers and a small note.

 _You do not know what I am capable of._

* * *

 _END OF CHAPTER 1._


End file.
